We Were Younger Then
by Foul Ole Ron
Summary: The Maurauders, starting in the second year “Well,” says Sirius darkly, “If cowardly-custard here isn’t going to tell you, we’ll have to. It all starts with the reason our friend Lupin disappears every month-”
1. Werewolf

**Disclaimer_: _**_I do not own any Harry Potter characters or anything relating to Harry Potter_

**WE WERE YOUNGER THEN**

****

**Werewolf**

I sag against the side of an old broken down cupboard, panting for breath. I can feel it awakening inside me, making its way through my body until it inevitably reaches my brain. I let out another gasp as a searing bolt of pain courses through me. This is it. I feel my limbs begin to seize up. I throw myself onto the floor, bucking and writhing on the ground. I felt the prickle of fur sprouting all over my body, and I begin to shake uncontrollably. As always, I cannot get over the sensation of helplessness as I feel my mind being invaded by a force I am powerless to resist. I am dimly aware of the pain of my bones cracking as they change to suit this new form. I give a final tortured howl, and the transformation is complete…

_…The room is nearly pitch black. Only a trickle of moonlight falls from a crack in the wooden roof… the wolf/boy/(me?) can only think of one thing, to escape... I/wolf push my/our nose to the crack…I/we howl with rage, I/we cannot get out! But I/we must have human meat/blood in my/our mouth…No! That would be wrong…but I/we have to…it would feel so good…there is no living flesh…must bite…I/we can't get out of here…there is no window, it is all dark…all dark…there is only one thing for me/us to do…my/our own flesh…it feels wrong…I/we howl in anguish…the pain…destroy…    _

_~~~~~~~~_

I open my eyes and the pain has finally left me. My skin is smooth and pale once more. The room is a wreck; I gave bitten through every surviving piece of furniture. I am lying naked on the cold stone floor. I struggle to my feet and slowly gather the tattered garments which were my clothes before the transformation. Though it has been happening for so many years, I still cannot bring myself to undress and save my clothes before the change. I look down at my arms and legs. They are a bloody mess; there are deep, jagged cuts all over them. The work of long fangs and sharp claws. _Nothing the nurse can't fix, I think absently. I dress as best I can and stagger to the entrance of the tunnel, that leads back to the school grounds. I reach the end of the tunnel where the great tree is protecting me, and others, from myself. I wait at the bottom of the opening for someone to come and collect me, and a wave of relief washes over me, it is over again for another month. I lose track of the time as I wait and before I know it a voice is calling from above,_

"Lupin? Lupin, are you there?" with a small smile I heave myself to my feet and call back up that I am here, and I am ready to climb up. At the top of the opening I crawl out into the open air. It is almost dusk, I see, and there are no students out on the grounds. The great tree, the 'whomping willow', is frozen in place, and the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, is standing with a blanket in her hands.

"Come here, you poor sod," she says kindly, and seeing I am shivering, wraps the blanket around my shoulders. I give her a weak smile and begin to plod back towards the castle that is Hogwart's School Of Which Craft and Wizardry. My limbs are still shaking from the ordeal and all I can think of is sleep, but Madam Pomfrey insists on taking me up to the hospital wing to change into decent clothes. Silently, I hold out my lacerated skin for her to heal. She frowns as she smoothes balms over the wounds and forces potions down my throat.

"Worse then last time, eh?" she says, though it isn't a question. I nod, my eyelids drooping,

"Well, you go off to bed then," she says, and I turn and limp back to Gryffindor Tower, to join the rest of my house. It is buzzing with the excited voices of students contemplating the weekend ahead. I slip unnoticed into the common room, and make for the second-year dormitories. But I can't escape all of them, my friend Sirius Black has spotted me, and is making his way towards me from the other side of the room. I try to hurry, but he has caught up with me.

"Hey, Remus, you're back. How's your mother?" he looks at me straight in the eyes, and for one painstaking moment I think he has realised, that he knows that my ailing mother is not the real reason I go away every month…but the moment passes, and his face is as innocent as the day.

"Remus, what's wrong? You look kind of-"

"Nothing," I answer quickly, "A long train trip, you know," I hurry up the staircase, and as I go, I can feel his eyes boring into my back, and I know he wonders…_he will work it out one day I think__ he's too smart not to…James too…and with a sinking heart, I clamber onto my four-poster and fall into an uneasy sleep._

~~~~~~

I wake in the morning unrefreshed, and as I trail down to the Great Hall for breakfast, I am thankful it is the weekend; I cannot bear to think of going to classes in this state. My friends have already arrived at the Gryffindor table, and they greet me jovially. Peter Pettigrew grins at me and tells me he hopes my mother is getting better. I feel a pang of guilt. I cannot bring myself to grin back, and all I manage is a feeble smile. I slept for twelve hours last night, and I know the 'long train trip' excuse will not last for long. James Potter, one of my other closest friends, passes me the honey,

"Hey, Remus." As I lift my hand to take the honey pot, the sleeve of my robe slides back, revealing the near-healed but still visible scratches on my skin. James stares at me,

"What the hell is that, Lupin?" he says anxiously, grabbing my arm for a closer look. I snatch my arm away and force a smile, telling them that my mother likes to keep a garden in her illness, that I helped her to prune the roses. The excuse sounds weak even as it leaves my lips. Peter seems to take the lie, and James nods his head and returns to his breakfast. Sirius raises an eyebrow but says nothing. I pretend not to have noticed. It is the same every month, I tell myself, they are no more suspicious than usual. But I know it is not true, especially since they saw the cuts. The claw marks. As soon as I have finished I leave the Hall quickly, claiming I have homework to catch up on.

~~~~~~~~

It is Monday, and my first class is Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. I have gotten over my fatigue and am back to normal, and my friends have asked no more questions. At the front of the room, McGonagall is telling us to take out our wands and start transfiguring our house mice. Sirius is leaning back in his chair and talking to Rosie Liddleton sitting behind him, and she is giggling quietly. James has transfigured his mouse into a match box in a twinkling and is now attempting to help Peter. Sitting next to me, Kea Sarkie is gazing dreamily into space and twiddling her wand in her hands. I sigh and tap my mouse with my wand. With a small pop it turns into a match box, McGonagall strolls past my desk and eyes my work,

"Not bad, Lupin, a pity about the tail. You could do better, I believe." She gives me a stern look and moves on. I find it hard not to glare after her. 

The class continues to work quietly through out the lesson, until there is a loud crack and the desk of Cindy Peters, who is sitting in the front row, disappears completely. The class snickers and McGonagall spins around, her eyes blazing. Cindy, who has fallen forward on to the floor, is beginning to cry. McGonagall helps her up and reinstates her desk, giving Sirius the death glare. He looks up innocently from his work, his dark eyes wide,

"Professor?" he says, feigning bewilderment. Rosie Liddleton sniggers into her hands and McGonagall sweeps the class with another cold look,

"I would just like remind you, second year Gryffindors, that I will _not _tolerate pranks or stunts of any kind in my class. Any of you who feel you would like to talk to me more about this, please see me after class," with that she sits back at her desk and there is silence for the rest of the lesson. As we walk out of class, James makes a loud remark about Cindy Peter's tear-ducts.

At lunch time, Sirius and James are still laughing about Cindy Peter's desk. I begin to feel quite irritated, 

"I didn't think it was _that funny. It's not her fault she's so sensitive," I say fractiously, and they all turn to look at me in surprise._

"What's wrong with _you, Lupin? It was just a joke," says Sirius calmly. James and Peter look slightly puzzled, but Sirius is giving me an odd look. I don't say anything else, and the conversation slowly turns back to quiddich, James' obsession._

"I can't believe you got to be seeker," Peter is saying enviously, and James laughs,

"If only I wasn't so talented! Then maybe all you less worthy ones would have a chance," we all laugh, and I begin to feel more comfortable, although Sirius is still looking at me strangely.

~~~~~~

As the days go by, I begin to forget about the were-wolf inside me and begin to enjoy Hogwarts again. Before I know it, a month has passed, and it is three days until the full moon. I have already let them know that I will be leaving to visit my mother soon; I have found that they ask fewer questions if I give them warning, and the only thing that disturbed me was Sirius' reaction.

"Oh, your _mother. Of course," he had said, "She has been ill for a long time, hasn't she?" I stared at him for what felt like years, and cringing inwardly I had finally said,_

"Yes, it has been long. Sometimes I don't know if she'll ever get better," he had simply looked at me and smiled sympathetically, saying,

"Well then. Mind you don't get prickled by those roses, won't you?" and that was all he said, and now I sit alone in the dormitory, _they'll leave for dead when they find out_ is all I can think, _they'll leave me and they'll tell everyone and I'll have to leave. Dumbledore will have to get rid of me…I can feel the fear rising inside, threatening to swamp me. All those specially made plans to get me enrolled here, all those precautions, the shrieking shack, the whomping willow…all for nothing. I feel nothing but a paralysing fear. I literally cannot move. __Two days to go, and that might be my last transformation at Hogwarts, and then home, home to the parents who expected more…_

~~~~~~

I somehow get through the rest of the day, going through the classes as if in a dream, avoiding talking to my friends, especially Sirius, delaying the inevitable. And finally it happens. They corner me in an in an emptying corridor on the way back from dinner. Peter is looking puzzled; he obviously doesn't know what's going on. James' face in unreadable, I can't tell if he knows. Sirius is in the lead, and he has a firm grasp on my upper arm, and as he is taller and stronger than me, all I can do is follow. Sirius pushes me into an empty classroom, and James pushes the door shut and locks it behind us. Sirius lets go of me and calmly sits on the teacher's desk, clasping his hands together and looking at me expectantly. I stare back at him, and then around at the others, but they give no sign.

"Well, Remus, are you going to tell us or not?" asks Sirius conversationally,

"Tell you what?" I say quickly. Too quickly I realise, as I see James raise his eyebrows.

"I think you know what I'm talking about," says Sirius, "Don't you think, James?" James glances at him,

"I think he does," said James gravely, "And he'd better get on with it!" Peter is looking from one to the other in bafflement, and then back at me again. I know I have been found out, but still I try to pretend.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" I say, trying, and failing to look innocent and surprised. Sirius gives me a darkling look.

"Lupin," he says, dangerously calm, "If you don't spit it out in a minute, I'll-"

"He'll do nothing. We'll just be here a very long time. Isn't that right, Sirius?" says James coolly. Sirius looks slightly resentful, but says,

"I suppose that's right, Potter."

"What are you all talking about?" asks Peter frantically, looking at me. But I am speechless, and I simply gape at the three of them.

"Well," says Sirius darkly, "If cowardly-custard here isn't going to tell you, we'll have to. It all starts with the reason our friend Lupin disappears every month-" Peter interrupts, 

"I thought that was his mum-"

"Shut up Peter! Anyway, I have been looking at the lunar chart recently, and do you know what I found?" I still cannot speak, so I simply nod dumbly,

"It showed that the _full moon always coincides with Remus' little trips," says Sirius, who is lounging on the desk, and, to my bemusement, grinning widely._

"And there's the cuts on your arms," puts in James,

"You can't tell me they were made by bloody _rose _bushes," says Sirius, still smiling. 

"Are you telling me," squeaks Peter, "are you telling me that Remus is a _were-wolf?_"

The word hangs in the air. Sirius has lost his smile, Peter is staring at me open mouthed, James is fiddling with a quill. A strange sense of calm overtakes me. They know. It is out, and my fate is in their hands. Slowly, I sink down into the nearest chair,

"Is there any point in denying it?" I ask quietly,

"No," says Sirius, without looking at me. We sit in silence for a long time, each with our own thoughts, I suppose. Suddenly James speaks,

"Is it very bad?" I gape at him, wondering what he could possible be thinking. Of course it is bad, they have found out…

"The transformations, I mean," he adds unexpectedly. I look at him, and I see genuine compassion in his face. He is not revolted at the thought of me; he is not speaking to me as if I were a freak… I think about his question for a second and something inside me sparks. Why shouldn't I tell him the truth?

"It is more terrible than you can possible imagine," I say softly. Sirius is now staring at me too, and he starts to say something,

"Is it-"

"Every month I am taken to an abandoned house in Hogsmeade. I change into a mindless monster with no thought other than to bite human flesh." I do not mean to speak, but it just comes out, "I howl and scream and destroy everything in sight. And when the urge to bite becomes too unbearable I attack my own hide, scratching and gouging until I am a bloody mess." I stop, because I can feel that my calm, even tone is about to crack. They are all staring at now, and I feel a strange delight at the looks of horror on their faces. _They think they have problems, well look at mine…_

"Well," I say, "Say it then. Say you'll leave me to-"

"Leave you?" asks Sirius softly, "What do you mean leave you?"

"Leave me. Tell the whole school what I am," I say flatly, looking at the floor. James gives an angry snort,

"Are you saying that you expect us to just – I don't know – _stop_ being your friends because you're – you're a…"

"Were-wolf?" supplies Sirius cheerfully. Peter gives an involuntary shudder.

"Yes," says James, "What kind of friends do you think we are?"

"Of-of course we won't tell anyone," puts in Peter. I look up in astonishment, and a glimmer of hope sparks in me. I have underestimated my friends. I feel a pang of guilt; I have not given them enough credit…I feel like crying…

"You don't know what this means to-"

"Don't get all sentimental, Lupin," smiles Sirius, "Now, you have to tell us everything about it, because I think I have just had a most _brilliant _idea!" Peter gives him a dubious look, and James glares at him,

"Black, you know I'm not adverse to risks, but we are _not _going to-"

"Calm down, James, I haven't even told you my idea yet! Remus, tell us about – _it." My head is still spinning from the revelations and I have hardly been listening. I take a gulp and begin. I tell them all about the time when I was eight, when I had sneaked out the front door to meet my friends one night on one of our pranks. I tell them how the were-wolf came, how it killed two other children and bit me, how the ones who escaped would never speak to me again. I inform them of the horror of the first transformation, and the grief of my parents when they could find no cure, and how I lived alone with my parents, without friends, with no hope of a real future, and a life of endless hiding. Then, as I begin to speak of how Dumbledore took me into the school when others would have refused, I felt my voice lift. I tell them about how every month I am taken to the Shrieking Shack via the Whomping Willow, and once I am talking, I cannot stop. It is as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I feel joyful for the first time in weeks. They listen raptly, and when I am finished they bombard me with questions, and for a few crazy moments I don't mind that I am a were-wolf. Smiling, I say to Sirius,_

"What was your brilliant idea?" he grins evilly at me, 

"Well, it would be _highly dangerous, and it would need a lot of thinking through, but I was thinking we could-"_

But just then Professor McGonagall bursts into the room, her face taught with rage,

"_What do you think you're doing?" she bellows, "It is past midnight and you are talking loudly in a classroom __right next to the staffroom?" we all stare at her._

"Just having a late-night Rave, Professor," says Sirius, who cannot help himself,

Professor McGonagall glares at him,

"None of you're smart-alec remarks, you're all on detention. Lupin, I expected better of you. Potter, just because you play Quiddich doesn't mean-"

"I'm sorry Professor," says James insincerely.

"I don't care how sorry you are, Potter. You're all to meet me outside my office at seven o'clock tomorrow night and I shall put you to work. Get back to bed _now_." No one says anything else, and we hurry back up to our dormitory. When I think that everyone is asleep, Sirius says,

"Does it feel better to have told us?"

"Yes. Seb and Geoff _are in here too you know,"_

"Yes, I know. But they're asleep," he assures me.

~~~~~

Finally it is time for me to go down to the shrieking shack once again. It feels like years since the last time, it feels like I am a whole different person. I almost smile, because I know my three friends are watching me even now, checking that I really am a were-wolf. The transformation is not as bad this time, my body is not nearly as cut up as usual, although I am still extremely weary when I finally get back to the Gryffindor common room a day, but my heart is much lighter then usual. My friends all rush towards me, slightly worried looks on their faces,

"I would make a 'wrong-time-of-the-month' joke if you didn't look so awful," says James with a smile. I manage a grin at that, and trudge up to the dormitory with something akin to good spirits.

***

As the months go by, I feel I am completely happy for the first time in my life. My friends help me to laugh about _it_ in a way I have never been able to before. It comes as a shock when Sirius again mentions his 'brilliant idea'. We are in Charms class and Professor Flitwick is teaching us summoning charms. The room is in chaos, there are cushions flying every which way, so no-one is listening to our conversation.

"I've been thinking about how we can help Remus," says Sirius conversationally,

"With what?" I ask absently, attempting to summon my cushion from the other side of the classroom,

"With _you know," says Sirius, "I've been thinking, you know how Professor McGonagall can change into a cat, how she's a whatcha-m'callit-"_

"An _animagus," says James excitedly, "You don't think we could-?"_

"That's _exactly what I think we could do," says Sirius, "It'd be really dangerous, but-"_

"Hang on a minute," I say hurriedly, _what are they thinking? I can't let them take this any further,_ "Are you being serious?"

"I always am Siri-"

"Shutup Sirius. You are _not_ going to try to change into animagus, ok? Not for me, not for anyone-"

"Why not?" asks James, his face alight, "Think how cool it would be! A were-wolf is only a danger to humans, so-"

"We come and join you every month," finishes Sirius, grinning. I stare at them in horror. They are genuinely excited. _How can they even contemplate it? _

"You can't! It's too dangerous! Do you know how many wizards _die_ trying to become an animagus?"

"Yeah, well, it'll mean a lot of research, of course," says James in a business-like voice, "But I think we're up to it,"

"We'll just have to take all the precautions," says Sirius, "It could take a while. But it'll be worth it!"  

"But it's illegal to try with out ministry approval! You'd be breaking the law-"

"What the ministry doesn't know won't hurt the ministry," says James flippantly. I feel I should argue with them more, make them see sense. But with a pang of guilt I realise that I _want_ them to do this for me, I _want_ them to become animagus so I will not be alone in the shrieking shack.

"So it's decided," says Sirius, "We're going to become animagus. Where to start?" 

"What about Peter?" I say, "How's he going to become-"

"Oh, Peter," says James, his grin faltering, "We'll just have to give him a lot of help, that's all," he said, looking over at Peter, who is sitting next to Rosie Liddleton and waving his wand in vain at a heavily embroidered cushion. I glare at James, and he simply shrugs. I know I'll never change their minds, and a shameful part of me is glad. They have had an idea, and they will not be able to resist the adventure of it. I just hope they don't kill themselves in the process. I look at them and play my last card, 

"Do you guys know anything about animagus? Other than what McGonagall has told us, I mean?" Sirius and James exchange glances,

"Well, not much" says James sheepishly, "But we can learn. It can't be _that _hard-"

"James, there have only been a handful of known animagus is the last century. Not just anyone can change into an animal at will you know," _especially not __four twelve__-year olds, I think. He seems to be lost for words for a second,_

"Well, emphasis on the word _known. There could be hundreds of illegal animagi out there," says Sirius, as if this settles the question._

~~~~~~~

Over the weeks that follow, Sirius and James talk of nothing but animagi and animagus-related topics. I have long abandoned my campaign against the idea, and start to happily join in the discussions, trying to push away the nagging feeling inside me that I am leading my friends into danger. Since we are only puny second-years, we are not allowed to into the restricted section of the library, where, Sirius assures me, we will find everything we need to know. So we take to making midnight escapades into the library. James and Sirius have inexplicably learnt how to perform the disillusionment charm, and Peter and I use James' old invisibility cloak, so we are reasonably well covered should Filch the caretaker happen to pass our way. In the library, we pore through old books looking for information about animagus. As we sit in absolute silence, James gives a gasp and waves us over. 

"Look at _this," he says, and we crowd around, looking down at the yellowed pages, and James begins to read in a barely audible voice:_

_'One with the power to transfigure themself into another animal form is known to wizard kind as an _animagus. _An animagus can change their body at will to that of another animal (most cases will change into mammals). However, the change only affects the flesh, and the person will retain their entire mind whilst they are transformed. In the past animagi were likened to creatures such as the _were-wolf…

…Sirius grins…

…_which does not keep its mind during transformations._ No matter how much an animagus looks like another creature, he will never be a true beast, and other creatures will recognize the difference. Unlike the abilities of wizards called _metamorphagi, __one is not born an animagus. The ability can be learned through much hard labour and a great strength of will and control. It is not advisable to attempt to become an animagus if one is not completely confident of their magical abilities, and, as Law 57958 of the Public Health and Safety Act, passed in December 1567 clearly states, it is Illegal to take up the endeavour without ministry approval and supervision. The following accounts are by those few who have succeeded in becoming animagi:'_

_…_James looks up from the book, "This could be just what we need!" he whispers excitedly…

_'Marcus Olliveiri, animagus who is able to transform into a ferret:_

_I first tried to become an animagus when I left school (Hogwarts) and wished to prove to a certain group of friends that I was…'_

"James, we don't have all night! Just skip to the bit about how he did it!" whispers Peter urgently.

"Ok, ok," says_ James,_

'_To make the first change, you have to be in an emotionless state of mind. You must think of nothing except your goal, to be in another form, to see the world as an animal and not as a human. You must put all your will behind it. You must really want _to be something else…__

James turns the page, and swears softly, "Someone's taken the next few pages!"

"That'd be right," I say,

"Well, we can at least take _this page," says Sirius. We all look at him, "What? It's not as if anyone _else _is going to need it!" I give a snort,_

"Except all the Newt students who have to study-" Suddenly Sirius is not grinning at me anymore, he is looking behind me. I whirl around, and there is Filch, standing in the doorway to the restricted section and wearing a truly evil leer.

~~~~~~~~~

~_Elbereth-Gilthoniel~_


	2. God Lift Us Up Where We Belong

**Disclaimer_: _**_I do not own any Harry Potter characters or anything relating to Harry Potter_

**WE WERE YOUNGER THEN**

**God Lift Us Up Where We Belong**

There is no time for Remus to pull on the invisibility cloak, no time for James and I to disillusion ourselves again.

"Well then, what do we have here? Students out of bed, students in the _restricted section?" Filch stands there for a few moments, enjoying our shocked expressions. Glancing behind me, I see that James has had the presence of mind to slip the book back into the shelves._

"I really do wonder what a gang of _second years_ like you would find interesting about the restricted section, don't you?" I stare at him, and for once, I am lost for words. _We are really going to get it for this,_ I think, 

"I'm sure the _Headmaster would me interested to know that to, don't you think, __Potter? Black?" James finally seems to have found his voice,_

"The Headmaster?" his voice quavers, "Surely you only have to take us to Professor McGonagall?" Filch's grin broadens,

"Not that it's any of your business, Potter, but Professor McGonagall is not here tonight, and so the Headmaster will have to do. And besides, I am sure I can remind him of the seriousness of your being here at night and that you should face suspension at the very least-" I feel a rush of anger,

"_Suspension?" I say indignantly, "It's not as if we were hurting anybody-"_

"Shut your mouth, Black. All of you come with me!" he hustles us to the door, muttering darkly about students needing harsher forms of punishment. Throughout the journey to the headmaster's office, there is silence, each of us contemplating the consequences of our capture. I am so caught up in my thoughts that I step on Peter's heels as we come to a stop in front of a large and ugly stone gargoyle. For a moment, Filch looks at a loss, and I feel a sneer make its way across my face, but then the gargoyle hops aside, and Dumbledore emerges from a doorway that has appeared in the wall behind. He is dressed in a magnificent indigo dressing gown, and he raises his eyebrows as he looks down at us all. Filch smirks and says,

"Headmaster, I found these four in the _restricted _section of the library, sir, and since Professor McGonagall is away I thought it only fitting that you deal with them!" Dumbledore gives us a piercing stare and nods to Filch,

"Thankyou, Argus, I shall take them up to my office and er – _deal_ – with them," with that he turns and gestures for us to follow him up the moving spiral staircase which has appeared in the opening behind him. Filch makes an outraged noise,

"But Headmaster! You must tell me, I _can_ punish them you know, I mean, the number of times I've caught them breaking the rules-"

"I'm sure I can deal with it, Argus," said Dumbledore gravely. Stepping onto the moving staircase, we all rise up, to find ourselves at the doors to what must be, I think, Dumbledore's office.

~~~~~~~~

We are all standing in front of Dumbledore's desk, heedless of the room around us and only intent on the headmaster's face. We wait for him to speak,

"So, boys," he says, "What exactly _were_ you doing in the restricted section of the library?" his face is unreadable, "Well?"

"Nothing, sir," says James weakly, "We were just interested in – er – learning some of the more advanced charms, that's all sir,"

"Yeah," I say, backing him up, "But we found they were too hard for us, you know-"

"All that difficult wand work," Remus puts in,

"Yeah," says James quickly, "So that's all we were really doing, and we're really sorry and all that-"

"And _why may I ask, were you wanting to know advanced charms? Not thinking of performing some of the more dangerous ones on fellow students, I hope?" says Dumbledore, and this time I see a twinkle in his eye. I try to widen my eyes innocently,_

"Oh of course not sir!" I say, more confident now, "Why ever would we do a thing like that?" Dumbledore raises an eyebrow, and Peter says quickly,

"A-are y-you g-going to expel us?" Dumbledore looks straight down his long nose at Peter and removes his half-moon spectacles. 

"Not this time, boys, as it's your first offence. But I ought to remind you of the rule that forbids students to be out of bed at night, let alone in the restricted section without permission," he gives us a grave look, "And, if you were planning to try anything illegal, think again. School pranks are one thing, dangerous magic is another," we heave a collective sigh of relief and Dumbledore gives us a sudden grin,

"Now of to bed, though I don't suppose there's many hours of the night left," we all make for the door in a rush, and Dumbledore calls after us,

"Oh, and I'll leave it to Professor McGonagall to organize your detentions, shall I?"

~~~~~~~

After our latest escapade into the library, James and I feel that we should probably lay low for a while. _It's nearly the end of year exams, anyway, I think, _after that we'll have the whole holidays to research in peace…_on the other hand, there are plenty of other things to do, such as tease James about one of the girls in our year, Lily Evans, who he has a quiet but quite obvious (to me anyway) crush on. It seems that I can get no end of pleasure from watching him squirm at the mention of her name. At breakfast, one blowy spring morning, Evans herself glides down from the dormitories and accidentally sits next to James at the Gryffindor table. I give a snort, and Remus chuckles into his orange juice. James glares at us and turns to Evans,_

"Hey, Lily, how's things?" he says, grinning. 

"Hello James," She smiles at him slightly and returns to her conversation with the girl next her. I give James a mocking thumbs-up and get up to leave for the common room. Before I can escape, McGonagall, having returned from her mysterious trip, corners me in the doorway, waving a piece of paper in my face,

"Thought you'd escape without detention, did you?" she says, thrusting the detention slip into my hands,

"Oh, no, of course not Professor, I just didn't know when you going to pounce. I mean, our little adventure was about a week ago-"

"None of your cheek, Black. I'll see you in detention!" with that she stalks back to the Gryffindor table, presumably to seek out the others. Sighing, I look down at the small piece of parchment. It reads:

_To Mr Sirius Black, Gryffindor second year,_

_Your detention will be held tomorrow night at __seven pm__ sharp. Yourself and Messieurs Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew will be meeting Mr Filch at the said time in the entrance hall, where he will escort you to Hagrid's hut to take part in an exhibition into the forbidden forest. Do not be late._

_Minerva McGonagall – deputy headmistress_

_The forbidden forest?_ I think,_ this should be interesting,_ I continue into the entrance hall and up one of the many flights of stairs leading from it. As luck would have it, I come across Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy is a fifth year Slytherin prefect, and even I know better than to deliberately pick a fight with him. Lucius Malfoy is a tall blond boy with a grey eyes and a pale, pointed face. He is also very rich, almost as rich as me in fact. We should really be friends, with parents like ours, but we are not, and there is a reason.

"Hello Black," says Malfoy, "Finished associating with the mudbloods and squibs yet?" I don't answer him, because I know that whatever I say will anger him more. But he is not to be deterred.

"What, nothing to say? That's not like you. Maybe some of Pettigrew's shyness is rubbing off on you. Your parents would be ashamed, Black!" I glared at him,

"Like I'd care what my parents thought," I mutter,

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I say, because I do not feel like getting bashed by his cronies,

"You're not so talkative without your little friend Potter, are you Black? It's hard to believe you're related to someone as sophisticated as Bella…" he trails off, leaving a deliberate silence, and I feel a sneer form on my face at the sound of my cousin, Bellatrix Black's, name. I decide to give him my full opinion, I can always run away, I reason,

"Bella? Sophisticated? If you call cursing first years until they cry sophisticated, then yes, I suppose she is. What are _you_ doing associating with a lowly _Gryffindor_ fourth-year, anyway, Malfoy?" For once in his life, Malfoy is caught of balance. I know about his relationship with my cousin, and now he knows I know. His pale face turns an ugly scarlet, and he snarls at me,

"Bella is not _supposed to be in Gryffindor. The sorting hat obviously made a mistake. She is a true Slytherin at heart!" I give him a mocking smile. It is quite funny; really, because he is right, Bellatrix __should be in Slytherin, like most of our family and even I cannot fathom what the sorting hat was thinking when it put her in Gryffindor._

"You're not wrong there," I say with a grin, "How would a vicious little cow like her get into Gryffindor under normal circumstances?" I wince as I sense that I may have just gone a little too far. Malfoy's face is contorted in rage and he is striding towards me, his hands out in front of him. I try to duck out of the way, but he moves with lightning speed. _Probably why he's such a good seeker for the Slytherin quiddich team,_ I think. Odd the thoughts one has when one is about to have one's head smashed in._ There, he's nothing to James, though,_ He is finally on me, and is reaching out to grab the front of my robes. Lifting me into the air, he forces open a nearby classroom and pushes me against the wall. As if called by some telepathic message, Malfoy's friends Christopher Rael and Leonard Golding enter the room. Rael is big and beefy, full of muscles. Golding is tall and handsome, with dark hair and olive skin. I raise an eyebrow at them,

"What? Didn't Bella come to watch the fun? Or is she too busy-"

"Shut it, Black," snarled Malfoy, giving me a stinging blow to the cheek. The pain is excruciating. I clench my jaw and glare back up at him. Golding sneers at Malfoy,

"What's this, Lucius, beating up first years again?" 

"No," grates Malfoy, "He's not a _first year, he's a second year. And he's a disgrace to his pureblood name-"_

"Come on Lucius, just leave it. It's not as if he can do anything to _you,_" says Golding in a bored voice, "It's a Hogsmeade weekend, you know,"

"Yeah, Yeah," says Malfoy, "You go ahead, I haven't finished with _him_ yet. Do you know what he called Bella?"

"No, but I can probably guess," says Golding dismissively, "I really don't know you see in that girl, Lucius, especially when she possesses such _uncouth relations," he gives me a nasty sneer, "I'll see you in the entrance hall, Lucius," He leaves the room, and Rael looks as if he is going to follow, but a glare from Malfoy stays him. Malfoy is looking more livid then ever after Golding's remarks and he raises his fist again._

"You won't be able to do this for much longer, Malfoy," I remark before his fist descends, "I'm nearly as tall as you." By the time Malfoy and Rael are finished with me I have two black eyes, a swollen lip and a broken wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wander into the common room around lunchtime, and most people are out on the grounds enjoying the sun. I clutch my wrist, for the pain is horrendous. I really must be crazy. Only Remus and James are in the common room playing chess. James looks up from the game,

"Christ Sirius, you've got to stop provoking Malfoy! You've got some cool bruises though," he exclaims. I give him a weak grin,

"Provoking? I wouldn't call it _provoking; it's more __responding, if you know what I mean." Sometimes I really am pathetic. I've just been bashed up, and I'm trying to come across all _cool_ to my friends. But then again, I think, I _am_ cool, so what's the problem? _

 "Healing bones is more painful the longer you leave it, you know," says Remus, the voice of reason. 

"Yeah, maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," adds James, peering at my broken wrist.

"Yeah, I know. But hey, how many times can you fall down the stairs in a week?"

"Is that what you tell her?" asks Remus accusingly,

"Well, yeah. What, do you expect me to tell her that I pick fights with Malfoy and he bashes me? Can you imagine what he's _do _to me?" I shudder comically, "It doesn't bear thinking about!"

"Why don't you just wait till you're bigger than him?" asks James, turning back to his game. Choosing not to dignify that with an answer, I drift back out of the common room and up to the hospital wing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day in Herbology, my least favourite lesson, our teacher Professor Carlin is late, and the class begins to get rowdy. I am to blame for the excitable behaviour of our Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Herbology class. Seizing the perfect opportunity to throw a balloon full of Magnolia-worm pus at Maurice Tyler, a snotty Hufflepuff boy with an attitude problem, I have caused a sizable ruckus. He is yelling loudly and everyone is backing away from him as large purple boils appear all over his face. Standing in a corner, James and I stand and chuckle to ourselves. The smile is wiped of James' face as Lily Evans shoots us the death-glare and rushes over to help poor Tyler. I make a face at her back and James' smile returns. When Carlin, our nasty and slightly unstable old professor whom we have nick-named 'The Weed' finally arrives, the hubbub has subsided and sweet little Miss Evans has escorted Tyler-the-Turd up to the hospital wing. The Weed stalks into the greenhouse with a face like thunder. This may or may not mean anything: Professor Carlin always has a face like thunder. He is a thin, gnarled old bugger with sharp black eyes and hardly any hair. He stands at the front of the class, his stick-insect limbs giving him an awkward, permanently tense look. Glaring around at us, he pulls out the role and produces a quill from his dark-green robes. A nerve twitches in his eye,

"Right," he says waspishly, "I am _not going to take any crap from you lot today-"_

"Hey Sir," I shout gleefully, "Isn't there some rule against you swearing at us-"

"Black. Did you or did you not here what I said?" asks The Weed in a slightly hysterical voice. Thinking of my detention later tonight, I decide not to push him any further, and I simply nod my head. Carlin curls his wrinkled lip into a sneer and looks back to the role,

"Alright then. Miss Appleton is here, Black, is here – unfortunately – Mr Denkins…" He continues down the list of names until he reaches Evans. I give a smirk of anticipation. Carlin has obviously had a very stressful morning, and is getting steadily more red in the face. 

"Miss Evans?" There is silence. Someone coughs.

"Miss Evans? Not here? I thought I saw her this morning! Skip class, will she? I'll have none of that-" Miss Evan's friend Lauretta Gordon, and several other people, pipe up,

"But Sir, she had to take Tyler-"

"She had to go with-"

"She was only helping-"

"Be _quiet I say!" shouts The Weed, who is not in the mood to listen to reason, _

"Oh, look," shouts a Hufflepuff girl, "There she is, coming across the cabbage patch!" By this time Miss Evans has burst in through the door and is apologising profusely to The Weed who is clearly in such a state that he is not taking in a word of it. I give fleeting thought as to _why he is even more highly strung than usual. _

"Professor," gasps Evans, "I had to take Maurice up to the hospital wing because-"

"What I have to put up with!" yells Carlin obliviously. I decide to lend a hand,

"Sir," I say in my best little suck-up voice, "Don't you think, that since Miss Evans is _late, that she should-"_

"Yes! You _are late!" he practically screams at her, "You're twenty __minutes late! I won't stand for tardiness, girl, so it's detention for you-"_

"But _sir," begins Evans, her eyes wide with shock, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"_

"I don't care! Professor McGonagall's got detention with Black and the others to night, hasn't she? Well, you can join them, Miss Evans, and report to me-"

"No!" shouts Evans, and immediately looks appalled at herself for yelling at a teacher,

"I mean, can't I have detention with you professor?" She must be truly desperate to be asking for a detention with Professor Carlin. _I really must be in her bad books_, I think, you never can tell how much dislike you can generate in a class mate you hardly talk to.

"Absolutely not, Miss Evans," grates The Weed, trying to regain his composure, "Now, where was I?" He continues with the role, sitting down on his desk and wiping the sweat from his brow. Just as it looks like he has got himself together, he reaches the T's,

"Where the hell is Tyler?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_~Elbereth-Gilthoniel~_


	3. Pictures of Lily, Make My Life so Wonder...

**Disclaimer_: _**_I do not own any Harry Potter characters or anything relating to Harry Potter_

**WE WERE YOUNGER THEN**

**Pictures Of Lily Make My Life So Wonderful**

Tonight is our detention. _Detention with Lily, it sounds so poetic. Sometimes Sirius really does help me out, although after this morning's little incident maybe she'll never some near our little group again. After our Herbology class she had stormed up to us, her gorgeous red hair flying out behind her, her angry face lit up like that of some divine Goddess. She cornered us on our way back through the cabbage patch._

"I can't _believe you! What kind of perverted pleasure-"_

"Hang on, Lils, I only-"

"Do not call me 'Lils', Black. Does it make you _happy to humiliate other-" Sirius held up a hand and put on his most charming smile, which even I have to admit is very charming, for a twelve year old. I gave a snort of laughter. If only I had a smile like that…_

"Miss Evans, I don't really have anything to say to you. I don't think anything I _can say will have any effect on you." Evans had given him a disgusted glare from her compelling almond-shaped, poetry extracting green eyes, and flounced off in a towering rage, without even a second glance at me. I had sighed after her and Sirius had grinned after her, his face gleeful._

"I really think I deserve some praise here. Little Miss I've-never-had-a-detention Evans is finally thwarted," Sirius said,

"_And you've managed to get her on the same detention as us," I said appreciatively._

"Pure genius, that's what it is," said Sirius.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Now it is six thirty and Sirius, Remus, Peter and I are eating a hasty dinner of Shepard's pie, pumpkin and broccoli. Peter is whinging about hating broccoli, Sirius is industriously smearing pumpkin onto Evan's transfiguration book which she has left behind on the table, and Remus is down in the dumps because he will have to go and 'visit his ailing mother' again very soon. Kea Sarkie, a Gryffindor girl who is, like Sirius, a childhood friend of mine, is observing the pumpkin-smearing process and occasionally remarking on how mean it is, and what a loser Sirius is being. This is having next to no affect on Sirius. Kea is a small, spindly girl with masses of very fine white-blond hair and huge brown eyes. She wears her hair in two thick plaits and I have never seen it any different. Next to her sits Linus Curlewis. Linus Curlewis and I have never gotten on as fellow Gryffindors, because I am of the opinion that he should never have been made a Gryffindor in the first place. Of all the jumped up, snot-faced jerks I have met, he would have to top the pick. I mean, who ever heard of a _Gryffindor_ setting himself above others just because he is a _pure-blood? Or rubbing it in to anyone he can force to talk to him that he is o-so-much-richer than them? I mean, you don't see __Sirius doing that kind of thing! Linus Curlewis is now trying and failing to gain Kea's attention. In fact, he once told me to keep my eyes of Kea, because she was __his. I later asked Kea about this and she went to desperate lengths to convince me that it was not so. _

Finally it is five to seven, and the four of us troop out into the entrance hall, leaving Kea alone with Curlewis.

"Serves her right for telling me off about the pumpkin," says Sirius, grinning.

"No one deserves that fate," I retorted,

"Yeah," says Remus tonelessly.

"Aww, c'mon Remi-Wemi," says Sirius, "Cheer up. Soon we'll be able to visit your ole' mum with you!"

"Soon?" I say, "I doubt it. We can't get into the library, and-"

"Don't be such a pessimist. We can look for books in the holidays. My parent's place is probably full of ways to perform illegal activities," says Sirius enthusiastically. "Yours might too, James."

"I don't think so," I say, and raise my eyebrows at him, "Why do you think yours will?" Then I remember the reputation of the Black family, and Sirius' parents attitudes. An unusually uncomfortable look flits across Sirius' face. His dark eyes look suddenly haunted, but the expression passes and he his smiling again.

"My parents – well, there're not exactly sticklers for what's right, are they?" his smile is somewhat grim,

"Anyway, what about _your house, Remus, you're not a muggle born, are you?" Remus actually smiles, his honey-coloured eyes crinkle._

"Of course I'm not. D'you think my parents would send their dear little were-wolf off to a school they knew nothing about?" Sirius nods absently, as if the question had not been one he had been interested in, but something to change the subject. Before I can dwell to much on the great House of Black, we are in the entrance hall and Lily Evans is already there, waiting for Filch. Sirius makes a crack about her probably waiting there hours before so that she would not be late for detention, and she shoots him an angry glare. Remus, who has nothing against Evans and is even friends with her, goes over and begins to talk to her. I suddenly feel a stab of envy at the easy way he is making conversation with her. A nasty little voice in the back of my mind tells me that if I were a touch nicer to my school mates she might like me more. I suppose being friends with Sirius does not help. Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I turn to Sirius and Peter.

"So what do you think we're going to be doing in the forbidden forest?" asks Peter,

"I don't know, probably get fed to the giant spiders in there," says Sirius offhandedly.

"Spiders?" whimpers Peter.

"Yeah, spiders. Don't you know about the spiders, Peter? There're big and hairy and they have these _massive teeth-"_

"Ok, ok, Sirius, can't you just have a sensible conversation for once?" laughs Peter. Sirius gives him a dark look, completely straight-faced.

"Oh, no, I'm _deadly serious, my father told me all about the _spiders_. Warned me never to go into the forest, he did, or else I'd-"_

"Oh, shut-up, will you?" I snap irritably, "You're not being funny."  Sirius, being one of those people who cannot laugh at themselves, or admit they are wrong, simply raises his eyebrow at me. I suppose I can't really complain, as I am once of those people too. But he doesn't have to raise his eyebrow. It is truly a gift, being able to raise one eyebrow, and it should not be used lightly. It is a gift that I will never have.

Snippets of Remus' and Evan's conversation drift over to us,

"You look pale, Remus, are you sick?" I hear her say. If feel a surge of anger, what right has she to ask how he is? She's not his friend, _we are his friends!_

"Oh, I'm alright, I  just have a bit of a headache," Remus answers mildly, "Why are we standing over here away from them?" Can he be so thick that he doesn't realise _why_ Lily has detention? Because of us, because of Sirius? Then I remember, he wasn't in Herbology today, Dumbledore had had him helping Hagrid the gamekeeper transfer some magical beasts for the Care of Magical Creatures Teacher. I hear Evans snap,

"Why don't you ask _them? It's them who're staying away from _me,_" I turn to look over at them. Remus is looking slightly miffed, and Lily is glaring at us._

"I didn't do anything! What are looking at me like that for?" I say indignantly.

"Oh yes? And standing there _laughing is nothing, is it?" she retorts sharply. I am taken aback; people do not usually speak to me like this._

"Look, I-I'm sorry, I mean-"

"Why are _you sorry? _You _haven't done anything! Shouldn't Black me the one who is sorry?" _Why is she being like this?_ I ask myself, for I have hardly spoken to her since we came to the school. Is it just because I'm friends with Sirius? Sirius turns around to face Lily,_

"That's the problem, there. Jamsie here is sorry, but I'm not. It'll do you good to have detention, anyway," he grins.

"What are you talking about. You are a-"

"You need the _experience, Evans. You cannot go through life without a detention or two. So really, I'm doing you a favour. You'd never get a detention if left to yourself!" Sirius nods smugly. Lily, not being able to think of anything to say, simply makes a disgusted noise and goes to sit on the great staircase going up from the entrance hall._

"Well," says Sirius quietly, "I think I won that round."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Filch finally arrives and it is time for our detention. He limps into the entrance hall, his ugly face so sour that I know he is still fuming about the fact that he was not allowed to disembowel us, or at the very least get us expelled. The man had taken a dislike to the four of us from the start. He gives a derisive grunt and gestures for us to follow him. 

"You all here?" he rumbles as we make our way outside, "I should have Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin, and…Evans," he turns and leers at Lily. The air outside is quite warm, as it is nearly summer, and the holidays – and exams I remember belatedly. We walk quickly over the Hogwart's grounds towards Hagrid's hut. I realise that we are probably going into the forest with Hargrid, as Filch probably wouldn't risk his neck in there. This comes as a relief, for I like Hagrid. When we arrive at Hagrid's shambling wooden hut, Filch raps on the door and waits. A few moments later the door opens and light from Hargrid's fire streams out, along with Hagrid's head. People who have never met Hagrid would probably be quite scared by the appearance of Hagrid's head. He is a giant of a man, almost twice as tall and twice as wide as your average male, with wild, unruly dark hair and a huge beard. To be friends with Hagrid you have to look past the fearsome exterior into the twinkling black eyes and, generally, kind person that he is. Filch, obviously, can do no such thing.

"Hagrid, these are for detention. I'll pick 'em up at twelve." Without another word, Filch is away and tramping back to the castle. Hagrid stares after him,

"Strange bloke, that Filch," he says, scratching his head. "Now, you lot, you better be sensible t'night, we 'ave a Griffin to find!" He smiles, "I'll jus' go get my crossbow!"

We stare at his retreating back. A Griffin? From what I know about Griffins, I could safely say that any Griffin hiding in the Forbidden Forest would not want to be found. But what an adventure! I have never seen a Griffin before, _maybe Hagrid means to tame it!_ I think excitedly, _Maybe we could even ride it…_

"Griffins," Sirius breathes, interrupting my thoughts, "This is going to be really cool,"

"Cool? _Cool?" ejaculates Peter, "We are going into the monster-infested Forbidden Forest and you call it _cool?"__

"Monster-infested?" says Sirius mockingly, "Great word, Peter. Of course we'll be fine. Hagrid goes into the Forbidden forest all the time. Don't you Hagrid?" he notices Hagrid re-emerging from his hut, armed with his crossbow and pink umbrella.

"O' course I do," he replies, "But you lot 'ave to be careful. Stick close to me, an' yeh'll be fine." Lily, who has been looking uncomfortable ever since the griffin was mentioned, raises her hand timidly,

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asks, her small, usually confident face looking pale and fearful. 

"O' course. As long as yer careful yeh'll 'ave 'an interestin' time. Now c'mon." 

As we walk towards the dark eaves of the forest I can tell Sirius is itching to ask why Hagrid is bringing his umbrella, but is restraining himself. Remus is continually looking up the moonlit sky and shuddering quietly. I wonder what it is like to be afraid of the moon. Would it be a kind of natural instinct, a gut feeling he had no control of? Remus' edginess soon evaporates when we enter the forest. It is completely black in there, and if not for the light at the end of our wands, we would be in pitch darkness. We cannot see the sky, nor very far up into the trees. An eerie silence descends on us as we trudge through the forest in single file, staring at the ground so as to avoid tree-roots and stray stones on the path. Every now and then, there is the rustle of some small forest animal, but other than that complete silence but for the sound of our breathing, and our feet on the ground. Our breathing seems abnormally loud in here, and I feel myself unconsciously holding my breath for as long as possible. I try to force myself to breath evenly. I cannot help but look around nervously for the imaginary beasts that are rumoured to dwell in here. One or twice, the hair on the back of my neck rises for no reason at all, and I feel there is something watching, waiting for me to…

"Oh, somebody say something!" Lily's voice seems stark and ringing in the silence. I feel myself willing her to be silent. Hagrid smiles,

"You lot are usually more talkative," he says, "Don' tell me you're scare o' the dark?" We all glare at him except Lily, who is still looking scared. Sirius, who is walking after Hagrid, stops suddenly.

"Hagrid, how do you know where we're going?" he says somewhat aggressively. There is a slightly fearful note to his voice, and I suppress a smirk of satisfaction. So even the great Sirius can know fear? Hagrid is apparently similarly amused,

"Can't yeh see the feathers, lad?" he says, pointing to a large golden-brown feather lying next to the path. I give a start of surprise, I had been so caught up in my fear that I had failed to notice that Hagrid had been following a trail of Griffin feathers. We stomp on for a time in silence until Remus asks the question none of us has hitherto thought to ask,

"Why are we following a Griffin?" Hagrid turns around,

"Oh, sorry. Musta forgot to tell yer. The blighter's bin' stealin' my chickens," says Hagrid, as if this explains why we need to go out in the middle of the night to catch it.

"Stealing your chickens," repeats Sirius, "Right. So why do we have to follow it through the forbidden forest in the middle of the night, and why is it leaving a trail of feathers for us to follow?" Sirius' voice is sarcastic, but I know he is still fearful. Not as gung-ho as before, is he? The bastard…

"Because," says Hagrid condescendingly, "It's _mating_ season for the Griffins, an' they shed their feathers t'line their nests. They're most active at night, bit like owls that way, y'know, an' to a trained eye like mine, yeh can see the trampled leaves an'-"

"Alright Hagrid, you've made your point," snaps Sirius irritably. Hagrid winks at us over his head and continues to walk forward. After what seems to be hours of solid marching, Hagrid stops us, a finger to his lips.

"Now," he whispers, "Yeh've gotta be very quiet. I can see the nest!" He creeps forward, surprisingly quietly for such a massive man. Stopping at the base of a very old tree, he looks up. I cannot see the point of looking up, as it is so dark we can hardly see a metre above our heads, but suddenly Hagrid lets out a low cawing noise. The sound is strange coming from his lips and for a moment I think there is some strange bird among us. Lily lets out a gasp of surprise and Peter glares at her. Peter is silently shaking with fear, and I can imagine what it must have cost him to even put one foot in the Forbidden Forest. I try to give him a reassuring smile, but find that even _I cannot summon one up. Now Hagrid has stopped cawing and is calmly waiting for something to happen. After what seems like hours, but can only really be a few minutes, we hear a soft flapping above us. As it gets closer, Lily bites her lip and clings on to Remus' arm. I am thinking that she should be clinging on to _my_ arm, and Sirius, who has been slowly regaining his enthusiasm, is looking expectantly up into the darkness._

Suddenly a golden-brown shape swoops down on us and everyone except Hagrid ducks for cover. The Griffin lands straight in front of Hagrid. It is a truly magnificent creature, its glossy golden feathers glint in the light of our wands. With an eagle-like head, and a lion's hindquarters, the Griffin stands nearly nine feet tall. It has a long, sharp beak and its front legs have cruel silver talons. Its great wings have gold, blue and green feathers, and it swishes its tail as its circles Hagrid and the tree. Despite its awkward shape, it moves with feline grace, and we watch it as if mesmerised. We stand completely still, staring at the beauty of it. The Griffin seems to emit a light of its own, and I feel suddenly safe in its presence. In fact, why where we afraid in the first place? There was no need…everything will always be well if the Griffin is here…it is so beautiful…I must stroke it…I feel a smile plaster itself onto my face before I can stop it, and I walk towards the Griffin. I can feel the others behind me, but that does not matter…Why was I so caught up in liking Lily anyway? She is nothing compared to the beauty of the Griffin! 

I am almost upon it. It has turned around; its avian eyes are staring right into mine. Every will be all right, all is safe. I can stay with the Griffin forever. I reach out my hand…

"James! No!" a shout breaks through my blissful thoughts, and I turn angrily. Hagrid is grabbing my shoulder, pulling me back from the Griffin.

"Yeh don' go near her, James," says Hagrid urgently, "An' you others, get back!" I stumble dazedly back, crashing into Peter as I go. Away from the Griffin's stare I feel somehow empty. I can tell from the confused looks on the faces of the others that they feel the same. What is happening? Why can't I just go on…Hagrid is pulling something from a belt around his waist? He is coming towards us, but why? All I want is to be with the Griffin…why can't I be with the Griffin?

"Argh!" I cry out with shock, Hagrid has thrown ice-cold water all over my face.

"What'd you do that for?" I splutter. I am standing in the forest, the others are all around me, now dripping wet, and the Griffin has its back to me, it is preening its feathers. I feel confused, what have I been doing? I remember staring into the Griffin's eyes…

"I shoulda warned yeh," whispers Hagrid gruffly, "Griffins control powerful magic. I suppose yeh felt like yeh had to stay with her forever, did yeh?" I blink at him…yes, I did feel like I had to stay with it forever…maybe I still feel that way…

"Why can't it affect you?" asks Lily in a small voice.

"Ah, I'm jus' used to it," says Hagrid airily, "Now, I'll jus' go deal with _her_." With that Hagrid strides towards the beautiful creature, and stops just in front of it. With a small bow, he begins to speak,

"Now, Griffin," he begins, "I 'ave reason to believe that yeh've bin' stealin' my chickens," he stops. I suddenly feel irritated. How dare he behave so rudely towards the Griffin. If _she _needs food, let her have it! What right has Hagrid to…

"_Why should I listen to the petty complaints of humans?" A booming, female voice seems to fill my head so that it is almost painful,_

"_Now, get away from my nest or I might decide I want to eat these egglings you bring so rudely into my demain!" I wince, getting the disturbing feeling that the Griffin's voice is actually _in_ my head, for I cannot see her beak moving. I suddenly feel afraid of the Griffin, I no longer want to stay with it forever…_

"Now look here!" says Hagrid fearlessly, "Yeh can't go around stealin' what ain't yours – ah, wait a second," Hagrid holds up his hand as the Griffin makes to charge at him,

"I've a proposal to make to yeh. Now I've met a few Griffins in my time, see, an' I know how hard it is fer yeh to-"  

"_You lie!" roars the Griffin, "_No ___Griffin__ would associate with your__ kind!"_

"I'm not lyin' ma'am, I'm simply statin' a fact. I know its hard fer yeh to keep your offspring alive, what with all the evil creatures in the forest an' the scant pickings an' so forth, so I'm preposin' that I, representing Hogwarts o' course, would give yeh a safe place t'live until yeh eggs are 'atched an' grown. That way yeh can leave them in safety while yeh hunt fer food elsewhere. In return fer not takin' our supplies o' course." Hagrid stands straight, looking the Griffin straight in the eye without any visible sign of fear. There is silence for many long moments.

"_What makes you think I don't have a mate to send out looking for food?" the Griffin says at last, but I can tell she is thinking about what Hagrid has said._

"Because, you wouldn't have come anywhere near a human-place if you didn't have to," Hagrid replies simply. Even I can see he has got her there. The Griffin tilts her head to one side as if in thought, and finally speaks.

"_It is true I do not have a mate, and maybe I am wrong in taking your food. I can be – overly proud." I gape at the Griffin. Is she being apologetic? "__But on the other hand, how can I trust a human with my young?" _

"You 'eard of Albus Dumbledore? It's his word they'll be safe," says Hagrid.

"_I have indeed met with Dumbledore. If you can think of a way to transport my nest to your settlement, I will agree to your terms," says the Griffin crisply. Hagrid grins,_

"That's where these 'egglings' come in."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is now the day after our detention, and I am even thinking twice about any more trouble making. No doubt my resolve will wear off within the hour, but you never can tell. Let's just say that five long hours of hauling Griffin eggs through the forbidden forest is not my cup of tea, not to mention the actual rebuilding of the nest on Hogwart's grounds. The she-Griffin presided over every twig, and would accept nothing but the softest leaves to bed her precious eggs which have no knowledge of their surroundings anyway. I cannot believe I wanted to stay with the thing forever! A fate worse than a thousand deaths! 

Now I am in History of Magic class with my head on the desk, completely exhausted. Even Lily Evans cannot be bothered to take notes from our dreary ghost of a teacher, Professor Binns. Hardly anyone bothers to take notes from him at the best of times, actually. I sit quietly watching Sirius, who seems wholly unaffected by his late night; dip the tips of Kea's plaits into his ink bottle. Kea is sitting at the desk in front of him, obliviously gazing out the window. I feel that I should probably say something, as Kea's hair will probably now be stained, but I cannot summon up the energy. Even Remus can't be troubled to tell her. He is staring blankly at the Professor Binns, obviously taking in absolutely nothing. I really should put in a complaint about Professor Binns. There should be some rule against dead people teaching, I think as I feel my eyelids droop, it's really rather morbid…

_~Elbereth-Gilthoniel~_


	4. The Creature In the Lake

**Disclaimer_: _**_I do not own any Harry Potter characters or anything relating to Harry Potter_

**WE WERE YOUNGER THEN**

**The Creature In the ****Lake******

"Peter!" What do they want? I'm sleeping!

"Wha?"

"Peter, get up!" it is Sirius' voice,

"Don't wanna," it's so early, I don't want to get up…

"Peter, it's exams day and breakfast has already started," bellows James from somewhere else in the room. Exams day! I completely forgot. Exams day, the bane of my life. If only I were James or Sirius, or Remus, then everything would be fine, but as it is, I am Peter. Poor, snivelling, whining Peter, Peter who _never_ does well in exams., or at anything for that matter. Groaning, I gingerly pull of my bed covers and climb out of my four-poster, nearly tripping on the hangings. By the time I have dressed, the others have gone down to breakfast. As I brush my hair, I look at myself in the mirror. I am a short, round boy with wispy blond hair and small washed-out blue eyes. I am nothing to my handsome, daring friends. Sometimes I really do wonder why I am friends with them, why they _let_ me be in their little group. I remember in the beginning of our first year, when I sat alone on the train, alone and afraid and knowing absolutely _no one. My family lived in an all-muggle town, and my half-muggle mother had insisted that I go to a muggle primary school, and therefore I hadn't met any wizarding children. Even now I can't comprehend _why _my parents choose to live this way. On the Hogwart's Express for the first time, I had been staring out the window, blind to the scenery and thinking about my mother and her teary farewell. James had stumbled into the carriage, dragging his trunk behind him, and talking to someone standing outside. He turned and saw me,_

"Oh, sorry, do you mind if we sit in here? Everywhere else is taken," I had nodded, not brave enough to protest. He had tumbled onto a seat, a small boy with unruly black hair and glasses, and after him had come a tiny blond girl, who I had later been introduced to as Kea Sarkie. James had known her before coming to Hogwarts. James had started to talk to me, seemingly not caring about my weight or shyness, as the boys at my primary school had. At first wary of such attention from a so obviously intelligent boy, I had eventually relaxed and began to talk. And then Sirius had arrived. He had burst into the compartment flushed and heaving for breath, and motioning for us to be quiet.

"Malfoy's coming, hide me," he had said, as if this was all that needed explaining. I suppose James would have had some idea as to what was going on, as they'd been friends before Hogwarts, but Kea and I had no idea who Sirius was. Obviously after the train trip James and Sirius were the only people I knew, so I naturally hung around with them. And then I stuck, I suppose, like a annoying little fly that buzzes around you just _won't _be brushed away. Oh dear. What a depressing thought. Once at Hogwarts we became friends with Remus. For the first time ever I had friends, real friends who actually cared wether I lived or died. It sometimes scares me even now, and the thought of losing such friends would be too horrible to contemplate.

Sighing, I at last drag my thoughts from the past and go downstairs to face the day. At breakfast, everyone is more tense than usual, particularly the fifth and seventh years. We juniors supposedly don't have as much to worry about, but I know that my passing the second year will be touch and go all the way. That reminds me of our on-going animagus project. If I weren't so utterly hopeless I might bring myself to feel excitement at the prospect. But as it is, I see it as an idea that could go dangerously wrong, especially for me. After all, according to Professor McGonagall there have only been seven animagus in the past one hundred years. Who do I think I'm kidding, imagining that _I _could perfect the transformation? Sirius is completely blasé about the whole matter of course, he can help when the time comes, he says. But I do not speak my mind because I do not want to go against the majority, I don't want to lose my friends. In other words, I am a snivelling, pathetic wretch who can't bring himself to speak out against an obviously idiotic plan. With I sigh, I lethargically spoon porridge into my mouth, knowing I should probably be looking over my notes, as Remus is. I glare at his hunched form resentfully. Of course _he is not going to fail the exams, yet he still feels he must make a great show of anxiety and last minute studying. Sirius and James are the complete opposite, laughing and joking as if it were any other day._

"Did you hear the one about McGonagall and the Giant Squid?" Sirius is asking the Gryffindor table. I have not heard the one about McGonagall and the Giant Squid, and nor will I get to, for Professor McGonagall is standing right behind Sirius as he speaks, glaring at him. She clears her throat,

"You were saying, Mr Black?" she asks as he stops mid sentence as he turns slowly around, a look of exaggerated terror on his face. The Gryffindors snigger slightly, but are silenced by one scowl from McGonagall. Sirius often wonders what kind of social life Professor McGonagall led as a child. James often wonders wether it was physically possible for her to have ever been a child full stop. She can't be very old at all, and yet she wears her hair in a severe bun every single day and is the most irascible, ridged, ruthlessly _fair person you could ever hope to meet. Now McGonagall is leaving the table with one last stern word. Sirius is sniggering, Lily Evans is glaring at him and the rest of Gryffindor are getting back to their own conversations. I rest my fat little head in my hands and sigh. It is going to be a long day._

~~~~~~~~~~~

Our first exam is Potions, worst luck. Potions is my very worst subject, and that is saying a lot. It is not that the teacher is incompetent, as is the case with Herbology, it is just that my feeble mind does not seem to be able to process the most simple of recipes. Indeed, Professor Hara is one of the most enthusiastic teachers I have ever met, and she tries to help me whenever she can. But I fear I am destined to fail potions. In the dungeons, it is cold and slimy. Professor Hara tries to cheer it up a bit by adding some colour here and there, but their really isn't much you can do for a dungeon. Sighing, I look down at the test paper and read the first question of the theory section:

_1) __What is the name given to the concoction that will effectively put a grown man to sleep for a period of approximately ten days?_

What kind of question is that? I glance over at Sirius, who appears to be having no problems with the first question and is casually scrawling down answers without any visible signs of concentration. Grinding my teeth, I turn to watch the boy beside me, Severus Snape, a Slytherin with greasy hair and a long nose. He almost makes me feel handsome! Snape is one of the people Sirius dislikes. Mostly this is because he is friends with Lucius Malfoy, and older boy who Sirius _detests. Snape is so engrossed in his work that he will not notice if I sneak a look at his answers, and there is no other way I am going to pass the test. Feeling slightly guilty, I begin to steal quick glances at his paper, looking around the room now and then so as not to appear too suspicious. I hastily scribble down as many of Snape's answers as I can see; hopefully he has studied hard. I have only just finished bodging the last theory question when it is time for the practical. It is nearly as bad as I expected. All through the exam I keep fumbling with the ingredients and getting the combinations wrong. My only consolation is that while my sleeping potion is not the olive-green shade James' is, it is at least not the violent magenta Kea Sarkie has managed to produce._

"I forgot to add the dog's liver," Kea admits as we make our way to lunch after potions, "I was just so flustered by that question on wether there's a potion to keep a werewolf down and if their was suggest ingredients that would be essential. I was thinking about it all through the practical. I seriously can't remember learning anything about that!" The blond girl is sincerely worried about how she'll do in the test! Pah, she'll get good marks even if she did stuff up the practical. She always does, just like James and Sirius, just like Remus. Just like every single bloody Gryffindor except me!

"Well, I wouldn't get too hung up about it," Sirius replies casually, "It's only second-year potions, after all." He grins, giving Remus a meaningful look, "And I can assure you that there is no potion to help a werewolf." Kea doesn't notice Remus nod sadly, but she does give Sirius a curious look,

"How can you possibly know that? I am _sure we haven't learnt about it in potions!" Sirius treats her to what he likes to think of as one of his more charming smiles,_

"Oh, you know, I have my ways," he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She shrugs him off calmly, 

"See you, I'm not going to be late for Herbology," she quickens her pace. Sirius hurries to walk beside her, grinning broadly.

"You're so arrogant, Black!" she says, snorting.

"I can't help natural genius, Sarkie," I hear Sirius' retort carry back through the corridor as they disappear from sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The week of examinations is finally over and I am completely exhausted. It is the weekend and I have until Monday to be free of the knowledge of how badly I have done in the tests. Luckily, there is only one more week of school left, and it promises to be a bludge. The four of us, James, Remus, Sirius and I, are sitting under out favourite beech tree in the sun by the lake. It is so hot that a couple people are swimming, not seeming to care about the giant squid. James is expressing his regret that Lily Evans is not swimming, and the rest of us are calling him a pervert.

"What?" asks James, grinning, "I just want to have a swim with her, show her I'm not really an arrogant bastard-"

"Give it a rest, James," says Remus, laughing and punching him playfully on the shoulder. James, in the mood to over-react, takes a swipe at Remus, and soon they are tussling half-heartedly on the grass. James has Remus in a head lock when Sirius decides to join the fray, yelling loudly. I take a tentative step towards them, wondering wether it is worth getting pummelled. I notice vaguely that the fight is getting closer and closer to the lake. Sirius, who has been surreptitiously creeping up behind me, suddenly gives a feral roar and launches himself at me from behind me. Our momentum carries us both off the edge of the bank and into the water. It occurs to me, as I flail beneath the water, that I have never been a strong swimmer, and how lucky I am that the water is not deep. Coughing and spluttering, I stand in the water, glaring at Sirius, who is now dragging Remus into the water by one foot. Howling with laughter, he begins to go for James, but before he can do anything, James dive-bombs into the lake with an almighty splash. Glancing around at the lake, I notice that many of the previously non-swimming students have followed our example and are screaming and laughing in the lake. I wonder how long it will take for a teacher to come out and tell us off. But there is no sign of a responsible adult, and we are young and insane. Soon a massive game of Marco Polo begins, made up of most of the junior school and those seniors who have, according to James and Sirius anyway, not been corrupted by the likes of Professor McGonagall. A girl called Pricilla Weasley is currently 'it', and I hope to God she does not get me. I have never liked water sports, especially not Marco Polo. My experiences of wandering blindly around in neck-deep water yelling myself hoarse and vainly brandishing my arms in the air have not been pleasant. Sighing miserably, I limp out of the water, my sopping wet robes making it difficult to walk. I glance back at the others, noting that only handful of the seething mass of screeching students have had the sense to remove their robes before entering the water. I peel of my own black robes and sit on the bank, dressed in my faded old jeans and a singlet, probably looking even more like a fat blob than usual. I know I must look the picture of misery. I idly watch the proceeds in the lake, now the vividly redheaded Pricilla Weasley has caught Sirius, (probably because he wanted to get caught rather than any real skill). He is now making loud snarling noises and thrashing about wildly, his eyes shut tight for all to see (why can't_ I make a fool of myself and still be considered cool?). Everyone is laughing and squealing at him. _

It takes no time at all for their squeals to turn into screams. I feel like I am watching some kind of black and white, silent movie. My hearing seems to have left me, and all I can see is the hundreds of writhing bodies with faces contorted in soundless screams. It takes me a full minute to realise that I myself am screaming. Without realising it, I stand up and begin to wave my arms and jump up and down. My brain tells me I should run, but the message does not seem to be able to get to my legs. It is like a scene from an old horror film, a giant beast is rising from the water, its massive tentacles groping for the panicking students. At first I think it is the giant squid, but then I remember that a squid does not have eight eyes and multiple mouths with dripping fangs. I watch transfixed as my peers scramble over one another in their effort to get clear of the water, pursued by the bulbous, pulsating creature. For a moment I see Sirius' almost bone-white face rise above the rest, clawing for air, but his robes soon pull him down again, and a mass of bodies rush over the top. The shock of seeing my friend drowning seems to galvanise me into action. I rush to the water's edge, and lying flat on my stomach I thrust my arm into the water to try to help anyone who cannot make it over the bank. My small hand encounters someone's wrist and I clamp down as hard as I can. My pathetic arm muscles do not help matters, and it takes all my strength to pull a small brown-haired first-year from the water. As soon as I have her on the shore, a group of students surge over the bank, trampling us as they run screaming towards the castle. Waterlogged robes buffet my face, arms and legs fly out of nowhere to hit me. I curl up on the ground, wincing with every blow. Suddenly someone's body is sprawled across me and I cannot get up! I am fighting for air, even. I feel fear wrenching at my gut. A booted foot descends on my face and all is black. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I open my eyes. A woman is peering into my face.

I open my eyes. Remus Lupin is talking to someone over my head.

I open my eyes. All is quiet in the hospital wing.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sit up in bed. I am dressed in my pyjamas, and apart from a dull ache in my chest, it seems that I am all right. I gaze groggily around at the other occupants of the hospital wing. Well over one hundred students are sleeping in rows upon rows of neat hospital beds. I can hear them breathing, but not one seems to be awake. Some are hidden behind curtains and many have an assortment of potions sitting on shelves beside their beds. The room is dark but for a shaft of moonlight falling from a window, and I judge it to be night. I wonder blearily how the hospital wing can possible hold this number of people and come to the conclusion that it must have been magically enlarged. For a while, I am entertained by the thought of how the hospital wing must look from the outside, bulging with students as it is.

Then I remember the events by the lake. With a sudden jolt of panic, I leap out of my bed. What if people have died? What if my friends have died? What will I do? Staring wildly around at the sleeping students, I race across the room and out the door, only to knock straight into Madam Pomfrey coming in from the other direction,

"Pettigrew!" she exclaims, "_What are you doing?"_

"What's happened?" I am practically yelling at her, "What's happened to everyone? Did anyone die?" Madam Pomfrey begins to usher me back to my bed,

"No-one died, Pettigrew, everyone is fine. You've been out cold for a full two days, you know!" I turn around, grappling with her, 

"But the monster! I saw it going to people! What was it?"

"Now, now, you'll wake these others. Get back to bed, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will explain it to you all soon."

"But-"

"Bed, Pettigrew."

There is no help for it. I must get back into bed.

What am I going to do?

_~Elbereth-Gilthoniel~_


	5. School's Out For Summer

**Disclaimer_: _**_I do not own any Harry Potter characters or anything relating to Harry Potter_

**WE WERE YOUNGER THEN**

****

**School's Out For Summer**

****

_A collection of letters sent by Hogwarts students in the summer holidays after the beginning of the rise of Lord Voldemort:_

**From James POTTER (56 Garden Rode, ****London****) to Sirius BLACK (**Grimmauld****** Place****, ****London****) - 1st July**

Sirius,

        Are you still alive? Are all your limbs still attached? I'm not a letter writer, so I may be sounding insensitive or something, but, hey, I _am_ genuinely worried about you. McGonagall said you were fine, so I've taken her word for it, although McGonagall's definition of 'fine' might be different to mine. I'm still in shock, mate. I mean, I knew _he_ was out there, but I didn't know it was so big! Hogwarts was really screwy at the end of term, no one knew what was going on and the teachers went completely off their heads at the slightest whiff of disobedience. I just woke up in the hospital wing a couple of days after the – well you know – and there were all these parents clamouring to get in. Pomfrey said everyone was alright – except a few like you for example – and so there was no reason for me to go home with my parents. Remus is fine, and so is Peter – if you're interested, although Peter didn't wake up for a couple of days after me, and the teachers didn't even tell his mother he was hurt! Slipped their minds, no doubt. They told us you and whoever else had been taken to St Mungo's with 'semi-serious injuries', and we weren't to worry…so anyway, please write back, ok? Tell me if Kea Sarkie's ok, and Derek Abigail too – and is Linus Curlewis there? Haven't seen his snivelling face around for a while. Don't get too bored in hospital and don't let them brain wash you – I have to go now – I'm sending someone one of those new envelope-dung bombs, haven't decided who yet.

See you,

JAmEs 

**From Kea SARKIE to Lily EVANS, 5th July**

Dear Lily,

               Thanks for the letter, it was really sweet. I'm fine, and I'm at home now, and I don't think I've suffered any lasting harm. I had a broken leg and a cut on my chest (rocks at the bottom of the lake, shudder), but I've been fixed up well, and now I'm fine. There were heaps of people worse off then me, but no one's died or anything. Sirius Black had to have a knee reconstruction (though you probably don't care about _him) and you should have heard the screams! You'd have thought he was in a torture chamber or something. When I left there were still a few people out of it, but I think they're going to be ok. I've been praying for them. It's really scary, don't you think? I mean I'd heard of this 'Dark Lord' before, but no one was really serious about him. Did you hear, apparently there's been murders too – and not by giant lake-monsters. The rumour is that this 'Dark Lord' has been trying to recruit people into some big organisation, and killing them if they refuse. It awful. I'm depressing myself, I'd better go. The true reason for this letter is that transfiguration book you lent me ages ago. I only just realised you'd need it for the holidays. I've posted it to you, I just hope it's not too heavy for the owl. You know, I really do think we should be better friends than we are at school! We should write more letters in the holidays! We would be like pen friends!_

Love,

Kea Sarkie

P.S - give my fondest regards to your sister. We really should get to know each other better!    

**From Sirius BLACK to James POTTER, 19th July**

_Dearest _James,

          Oh, James, _are you alright? Have you died of worry for my sweet soul? Does your face still look like the rear end of a camel with diarrhoea? I'm touched, I really am. And I'm fine, of course. I'm home, obviously, and I'm 'resting'. I have been resting for a couple of weeks now, actually. Father reckons I'm a weakling, but what does he know? Regulus (he is coming to school next year! Cringe with me James!) reckons I'm putting on an act to gain attention. Stupid bastards. Anyway, I have had a knee reconstruction; two knee constructions, actually, the first one didn't work. Pain beyond your worst imaginings. You know that 'skelegrow' stuff Madam Pomfrey uses? That, only hundred times worse. It took three bloody days of sleepless nights and constant pain! You see, they can't put you out of it because the stuff doesn't work on unconscious bodies. My knee was on fire, almost literally, needle like daggers were being driven into my knee cap continuously for seventy two hours straight!_

Ok, I have whined enough. Kea Sarkie is fine, she went home before me. Couldn't stand my tortured screams, apparently. Actually, nobody could stand my tortured screams – had the ward to myself quite quickly. Except for that Weasley girl, Pricilla. She really does like me, you know, she kept coming in even after she was better, asking me if I was alright, and what I planned to do with my holidays, and what my favourite subject was, and how could I possibly be so brave. She also wanted to know my favourite colour, band, star sign, et cetera. She is very full-on for a first year, and so much red hair! I mean, it's unbelievable. She's probably never cut it in her life. How do you propose I get rid of her? Do you think red hot coals down the back of her neck  should do the trick? Maybe we could prank her? Speaking of pranks, the dung bomb you spoke of would do nicely to permeate the crimson locks of our other red-haired friend. Don't chicken our because you're in love with her, will you James? I mean, she can't possible come to loathe you any more than she already does can she? Think sensibly, mate, if she's your true love (which I can't help but doubt) she'll come round in the end, and one little dung bomb isn't going to make much difference, is it? Anyway, its you're decision, but don't even think of sending it to me – I never open an envelope from a friend without performing a serious of calculated tests.

There's something else. The lady who lives down on the corner of our street – her name was Doris Heathden, she was an auror – she was killed yesterday. There are still reporters everywhere and ministry officials patrolling the streets. It was the Dark Lord. He's put it about that he calls himself 'Voldemort', and whenever he kills a great skull appears over the site. No one knows much about him yet, but the general opinion is that he's trying to take over the world. But they don't really know yet, he could be just some psychotic killer they can put in Azkaban and be done with it. They reckon he was responsible for the monster in the lake, but do you believe that? He'd have to be pretty powerful.  The story will probably be in the _Daily Prophet tomorrow, and you'll see that it was pretty ghastly. A lot of the Heathden House was destroyed, and they're pretty sure it was _Avada___ Kadava that killed her. _Avada___ Kadava, you ask? It's an unforgivable curse, and we second – I mean _third_ years shouldn't really know about it, however I do, because I'm utterly brilliant, and I'm also a Black. It kills you instantly, and it doesn't work if you're heart's not in it, so basically you've got to be a dark wizard to use it. _

As could be expected, Regulus is unbearable with excitement; it seems that not even the brutal killing of an innocent and neighbourly figure can quash his anticipation of a new school. Of course, his good mood does not extend to _me_, although this might have something to do with the fact that I have been systematically applying every Zonko's product under the sun to his person or possessions, my most recent exploit being  the covering of his bed sheets in _Multispawn_ (Frog spawn that multiplies with water! Only two knuts for eighty kilograms of pranking fun!). So, yes, even though you have met my slimy and twerpish younger brother only once, you would already have guessed that he told father of my sins. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. You've probably never received a belting from you're father, James, because your father, besides being quite a bit younger than mine, does not have any evil Slytherin ancestors from whom he has inherited his personality. Your father is also a nice person. So I have an even greater grudge against Regulus than I did before, if it is humanly possible, so if anyone at school says I look anything like him (I know how hair is the same colour but he has shifty eyes and an evil slinking manner) then be sure to jinx/curse/pummel them into the next millennium, ok? Good friend.

Is there anything else I need to say? Hmm…oh yes! Can I come to your house next week? I'm sorry if I did not express how miserable I am accurately enough above, but I really do want to get away from the fiends (they shall now be called The Fiends at all times, ok?). Only if it's ok with your mother of course. Write back and tell me! Quickly! Regulus is now prancing around the house twirling his new wand and coming dangerously close to performing Illegal Underage Magic!

See you sooner (rather than later)

Sirius

P.S ~ I bet Regulus is a Slytherin

**From LILY EVANS to JAMES POTTER 21st July**

To Potter (who is an immature bully and has nothing better to do than spend his time aggravating people who actually have a life)

THAT WAS COMPLETELY JUVENILE THING TO DO AND IT WAS NOT THE LEAST BIT FUNNY. My _Mother _opened that letter and was SPRAYED WITH WHATEVER FOUL MATERIAL YOU PUT IN IT! I hope you are HAPPY, you have caused an innocent adult to become UNCONSCIOUS because of your STUPID PRANK. You are not impressing anyone with your INANITY, least of all ME. One would have thought that if you LIKED me so much you would do your best to hide your arrogance and two year old mind set! You are embarrassing no one but yourself. I have wasted enough ink on you. 

Lily Evans (who completely and utterly despises you in every single way imaginable)

P.S ~ how the _hell _did you get my address?

**From JAMES POTTER and SIRIUS BLACK to LILY EVANS 22nd July **

Hello Evans,

_Guess who?_

Its your two favourite people in the whole world…

_Thanks for the letter, Evans, I've taken your comments to heart!_

Who would have though you'd bother to write back to him? Maybe you do like him, secretly…

_I'm__ sorry about your mother, Evans…really I am!_

He's a nice person really, Evans, just a little misguided…

_Hey! It's Sirius who's doing the misguiding, Evan's, you should take it out on him!_

I wouldn't Evan's. You don't mess with Sirius Black and get away with it with all limbs intact, you know.

_Bye Evans, see you at school _

He's winking at you, Evan's!

_James _and Sirius

P.S ~ you swore, you said hell! Real naughty, Evans…mmm, Mrs Potter's choc-chip biscuits are really nice… ~Black~

**From KEA SARKIE to JAMES POTTER 24th July**

James!

I can't believe you sent a dung bomb to Lily Evans! You are not going the right way about winning her over, my friend. Although maybe we shouldn't be friends, because you're not a very nice person at all! You may be wondering to write a letter since I only live down the street, but Mother's not well and Dad won't let me out of the house (I had to get my big brother to post this).

Have you heard about Voldemort ? there's been five more deaths although I suppose you know since you probably get the _Daily Phrophet_. But there've all been aurors or muggle borns. Voldemort's supposed to have a huge dislike for muggleborns. Anyway, see you at school,

Love

Kea Sarkie

**From REMUS LUPIN to JAMES POTTER 26th July**

James,

Thanks for inviting me over. I'll come as soon as I can…I'll probably be over in a couple of days. I'll be 'sick' tomorrow, of course, and then I'll have to convince my parents to let me go, though, they are really over protective. With good reason, I suppose.

So, how are your holidays? If Sirius is there I'll say hello. It is quite gloomy at my house at the moment, because mother is sick – for real this time, and Dad's all worried because the doctors don't know what it is. But I'm sure they'll find out soon, I mean, she looks ok, she's just really tired all the time. Nothing else has happened really, except of course all this stuff about Voldemort that you've seen in the paper. See you soon 

- Remus

**From JAMES POTTER to KEA SARKIE 30th July**

Cut the crap, Sarkie

This letter writing is weird. I find myself writing letters all the time now…stop writing me letters! And yes, of course you have to be my friend still – if you didn't have me, how would life be worth living? And why do you care if I sent Evans a dung bomb, you're not best friends or anything, are you?

Guess What?! I have a new broom for quiddich!

Rudely Yours

James Potter

P.S (from _Sirius) ~ is that hair colour of yours getting to you or something?_

P.P.S (from _James) ~ terribly sorry about your mother's illness and your father's irrational fears_

**From PETER PETTIGREW to JAMES POTTER 31ST July**

James,

How are you? I'm afraid I can't come over this holidays because mother is paranoid after what happened at the lake. I suppose you and Remus and Sirius are all at your house then? Are you researching for you-know-what still?

Anyway, what do you think about this Dark Lord? My Mother's already afraid to say his name out loud. The monster was frightful, I don't remember ever being so scared! I don't really have anything else to say. 

Bye

Peter

**From SIRIUS BLACK, REMUS LUPIN and JAMES POTTER to PETER PETTIGREW 32nd July**

**Hi, Pettigrew!**

**I'm**** Sirius and I'm BOLD!**

_I'm__ James and I'm BEAUTIFUL!_

I'm Remus, and I'm just average.

**So, Peter, what deadly exciting activities have you been engaging in these holidays? It's such a _horrible_ shame you can't be hear with us. We've been having the most super-fun! We've been playing quidditch – although we've had to use sweet little Sarah (whom I utterly despise) from next door to make up the teams. The horrible little fiend is only ten years old but she has severe attitude problems that do not befit her hormones. She also has a vocabulary to rival yours, Peter, and all the little kiddies down at playgroup or wherever she goes probably live in mortal fear every day of their lives. James has a new broom, as you've probably already heard – and he is unbearable. There is not a waking moment when we do not talk about the wonders of that piece of polished drift wood. Remus has got the idea and has begun to read anything available whenever the conversation reverts to the aforesaid broom. But I am not so lucky, because James will surely notice if _both his listeners always grab the nearest piece of literature the moment he begins a rant – even if it happens to be __A Day in the Life of a Phytoplankton.__ And what else has happened? Well, an evil, murdering 'Dark Lord' is out to kill everyone in his way, Mrs Potter's cooking is delicious, we have to go back to school next week, and I turn thirteen in one month and two days. That's about it._**

**Over and Out**

**$iriu$**

_James here.__ Sirius is, of course, an idiot, and always will be. His meaningless banter has no doubt bored you already. Just for the record, Sarah is _not_ a little fiend – she is simply a very excitable young girl. But he's write about us having to go to school next week. We've got no work done on you-know-what, so we'll have to have some better planned library expeditions this term and then maybe go to Sirius' house next holidays. According to him, his family's so evil there's bound to be something on performing the you-know-what transformation illegally. What else is there to say? Not much really. I don't approve of this letter writing thing, you know. It's just too odd. I've never written a letter in my life, and then suddenly this holidays there are letters coming in left right and centre. Do you know that Kea Sarkie sent me a letter from ten houses down the other day? I don't even know why we're writing to you, I mean why would you be interested in anything we are doing and you are not. Pure boredom, I suppose. I just wish we could do magic! There's a limit to the pranks you can pull without a wand, you know. You can do trite little joke shop things, but you can't do anything big_. (I can't believe I just used the word trite, I must really be an extremely advanced thirteen year old). Ah, mother's coming with some more rations for our poor deprived stomachs. See you either at school or at Diagon Alley (I want to get an owl this year!)__

_James (the King)_

Hi Peter, it's Remus in his uninteresting and conservative font. Well, since our other two idiot friends have covered the er…_important _issues…there's nothing much for me to say. Although, this 'Voldemort' is worrying me, obviously, and there's no point going on because it's boring, but did you know that he's already spread so much fear that some people are starting to call him things like 'nameless one' and 'you-know', they're becoming afraid to say his name! I find this very disturbing. Just a thought, anyway, see you later.

Remus 

**Good Bye Peter**

****

**From **

****

**Your BEST and ONLY Friends (worth talking about anyway) who are WONDERFUL in every way and who you should be ETERNALLY grateful to for simply EXISTING      **

_~Elbereth-Gilthoniel~_


End file.
